


Destination Uranus

by CreepingDawn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Oral Sex, Outer Space, Pedophilia, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 06:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19847386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreepingDawn/pseuds/CreepingDawn
Summary: A boy born in outer space must go through an ordeal to be able to live on Earth. This is that story...





	Destination Uranus

Thirteen Years Ago:

“You’re kidding me…” the Director said, her eyes hard as she glared without amusement at the AMTU Mission Chief. “That’s… that’s not possible. We took precautions.”

“Captain Zachary confirmed it this morning,” the small man said, his face sweating profusely as he glanced nervously around the room. This was bad, he knew, and he didn’t want to be the one thrown under the bus because of it. The Director was not someone he wanted to piss off but he, unfortunately, was the one who had to break this troubling news.

“It can’t be. It isn’t possible.”

The nervous man shrugged, helpless to change the facts.

Twelve Years Ago:

“Alright,” groaned Dr. Zangief as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I want to see if I have this straight.” The various members of the AMTU mission team, attached governmental representatives, and consulting doctors around the table nodded in sympathy at his obvious disbelief.

“Go ahead,” responded the Director, taking a sip of her coffee to hide her continued disgust with the whole affair.

“Three years ago, the Juno was launched from Earth Orbit with a crew of fifty-six.” Heads nodded. “The crew was going to spent the next seven-ish years traveling to Uranus, two months slingshotting around the planet, and then another seven-ish years coming home. The purpose of this fourteen year mission, called the American Mission to Uranus, was to run a whole battery of scans of the planet and it’s various moons, take samples from that atmosphere, and perform several hundred specialized and highly thought-out scientific evaluations which had been developed specifically for this mission over the past two decades?” More heads nodded. “Once launched, the only way home was to complete the mission?”

“Because Juno couldn’t carry enough fuel to stop the acceleration, turn around, and come back. Yes. The ship had to use the planet’s gravity-well to send it back here.” Dr. Zangief nodded in thanks to Deputy Chief Mitchell for clarifying that point.

“And to avoid any problems, all the male crew had vasectomies and all the female crew had their tubes tied? This was to prevent any pregnancies during the mission?” The Director nodded her head when he glanced at her. “Except… something went wrong and, a year into the mission, one of the female scientists became pregnant? Dr. Laura Trask gave birth to a healthy baby boy about two months ago? And the Juno is still on it’s way to Uranus?”

“Yes. Yes… um… that’s right.” The small man to his side nodded feverishly and Dr. Zangief gave him a sour look. The AMUT Mission Chief was not a pleasant man to deal with and reminded him of a rodent.

“They are going to complete the mission,” the Director said as the silence stretched. “In about twelve years, Juno will arrive back at Earth. There will be one more passenger than when they left. We have got to figure out what to do when they arrive.”

“Because living in space all his life, even on a ship like Juno which rotates enough to create .6 gravity for the crew, means the boy will not have the physical tools to survive Earth’s 1 gravity environment. Coming to Earth is a death sentence for the boy.” Dr. Zangief said these last few words quietly, the scope of the problem clear.

“Aiden.” Mitchell said, signing. “His name is Aiden.”

Eleven Years Ago:

“Bones. Blood. Spinal Fluid. Heart. Stomach. Five distinct problem-areas that could kill Aiden when Juno arrives.”

“The patient,” Dr. Zangief remarked clinically, reminding Dr. Gilbert that they needed to see the boy as a patient and not a person if they were going to solve the complex question of how the boy could be conditioned to live on Earth. The Director had complained many times that leaving the boy in space upon Juno’s arrival was an unacceptable solution as the public outrage over how this whole thing was handled would cripple future space programs and doom scientific exploration. Bringing the patient home to Earth was the only way to get the public to continue supporting the programs and it was Dr. Zangief’s job to make that happen. “Yes. Bones too brittle. Blood pressure too low. Spinal fluid buildup. Weakened heart. Stomach unable to absorb iron under normal G. All issues that the patient has developed being born in and living in space.”

“The adults don’t suffer from those problems,” the young doctor responded, though Zangief knew Dr. Gilbert was just thinking aloud.

“Because they developed on earth.”

“Maybe there is something too that,” Dr. Gilbert said, sitting down and scratching his three-day old beard.

“Maybe…”

Nine Years Ago:

“The treatments are going well?” the Director asked, smiling coldly at Dr. Zangief as he stood awkwardly in her office.

“Yes. Dr. Monroe and her team on Juno are doing an excellent job. The Patient’s stomach and spinal fluid issues are totally solved. We think we know how to deal with the blood issue. No idea yet on the heart or the bones.”

“Keep me posted and let me know if anything unexpected happens on your end. Good day Doctor.”

He’d been dismissed.

Eight Years Ago:

Dr. Zangief used a black dry-erase marker to cross out “Blood” on the mission master board and the two dozen or so individuals standing and sitting in the conference room let out a loud cheer. “Ok people. Two left. I know Dr. Johnson is confident in the proposed solution to our bone problem and, truthfully, I think it looks good too. But as of today, we still don’t have a complete solution to the bone issue and nobody has come close to proposing a solution to our heart problem. We still have lots of work to do.” The room filled with nods and a hopeful energy.

Seven Years Ago:

“We’ve solved everything but the heart issue, Director.” a very glum Dr. Zangef said quietly as the Director paced around her office. “And we are still investigating possible solutions. The problem is that we can’t begin to strengthen the heart while the patient is in space because it has to strengthen under a 1 G environment to have any effect. However, any methods we can come up with to have the patient strengthen his heart once he lands on Earth would end up killing him. He simply can’t do much once he lands - even simple exercise will be incredibly dangerous. We think the best method is going to be some sort of microscopic heart lining that would…”

“I know,” the Director said sharply as she cut him off, “and I know that the research down that path has not been good. Doctor, we are so close. So incredibly close. The Juno is slingshotting around Uranus as we speak. The mission is half over. We need a solution.”

“Well I’m going to continue to have my team look…”

“Broaden your search parameters,” the Director interrupted, glaring at him. “Look under every rock if you have to. Find a solution. I don’t care how or what.”

“Yes, Director.”

Six Years Ago:

“The Brazilian research is very promising,” Dr. Gilbert said, for the fourth time that morning.

“I said no.” responded Dr. Zangief, getting angry.

“It might be the only solution.” The younger doctor responded tartly, his own frustration getting the better of him.

“I said no.” Dr. Zangief responded, turning his back and walking away.

“I’m going to forward it on to the Director,” said Dr. Gilbert loudly, causing Dr. Zangief to stop in his tracks.

Without turning around, Dr. Zangief responded coldly, “That is your prerogative doctor. But if the Director asks us to pursue that line of inquiry, I’m going to resign.” He started walking again.

Five Years Ago:

“Dr. Gilbert,” the Director said in her most pleasant voice, “You have a report for us?” The room quieted and Dr. Gilbert stood, swallowing and fumbling with his notes.

“Yes Director.” He responded.

“Good. Your predecessor resigned nine months ago over this little tangent but your updates since his departure have been filled with promises I hope you are about to tell us you can keep.” She gave him a look that had him breaking out in sweat.

“I… I think I can, Director. Ladies and gentlemen, most if not all of you have read bits and pieces of this research since it was proposed a year ago. In the last twelve months, we have gathered a remarkable amount of research from our Brazilian colleagues, the Chinese, the Swiss, and the Australians. If you open your binders to page one, I want to walk you though…”

Four Years Ago:

“The Brazilian Solution is basically complete, Director. We can now send it to the patient’s parents for their endorsement, though you said last week you had already spoken a bit with them and they seemed on board?”

“Yes, doctor. The boy’s parents are both scientists and understand that the health and safety of their son trumps any social qualms about the type of treatment. I will forward them the final proposal today but I have no doubt that they will support it.

Three Years Ago:

“The boy is now, what, nine? Is that even old enough to understand the process?”

“Yes, doctor. His parents, Dr. Monroe, and Dr. Flexar have all explained it to him. He’s fully up-to-date on the ‘birds and the bees’ and they have all done an excellent job describing the Brazilian Solution to him so he understands why it is necessary and how it will work. They will continue to educate him over the next few years so he is ready when he arrives.”

One Year Ago:

“The facility is ready to go, Director. All we need now is the patient.”

Present Day:

Dr. Gilbert watched from the control center as the nurses, medical techs, and specialized doctors bustled about the operation room in preparation for the patient’s arrival. The crew of the Juno had landed almost an hour ago and the boy, after saying goodbye to his parents, had been placed in a medical helicopter and was currently in route. Dr. Gilbert licked his lips in anticipation. His entire career was on the line if this failed. Just proposing it those years ago almost got him fired. Now, here he was, almost ready to start and nervous as a virgin on her wedding night.

The doctors with the patient on the flight had recently reported in and informed him that the patient was responding well to the various drug cocktails they were giving him. The boy had spoken with Dr. Gilbert the night before and confirmed that he understood every aspect of the procedure, that it was the only chance the boy would have to live on earth, and that he was scared but would be brave. Dr. Gilbert admired the kid, truth be told. He may have understood what was coming intellectually but he was in for a major shock to the system once they got started.

The metal doors opened and a bevy of medical personnel entered the operation room, a twelve nearly thirteen year old boy in a wheelchair being pushed right behind them. Attached to the boy were several IV bags containing very specific and powerful drugs that had taken years to perfect but were necessary if the procedure was going to work. This was the first time Dr. Gilbert had seen the boy in person and he could tell the child was the son of Dr. Laura Trask, a woman Dr. Gilbert had known well before the mission began. With curly black hair, green eyes, and a smattering of freckles, the boy, whom Dr. Gilbert knew was tall and thin, had a look of wonder on his elfin face as he was wheeled in and several people lifted him into the procedure chair.

The chair, which looked like a gynecological chair, was in the center room and surrounded by various devices and monitors. As the boy was settled in, his hospital gown was removed and his nude body was revealed to the room. None paid any attention, professional as was required, and the boy didn’t look particularly disturbed. Various straps were latched around the boy’s body, holding him in place securely but not uncomfortably. A helmet-like device, which was attached to various instruments, was placed on the boy’s head while his legs, which were in the chair’s stirrups, were spread wide. A medical tech used a small key to unlock the boy’s chastity device and removed it, the youngster’s small penis immediately beginning to swell as the cool air caressed it in it’s freedom.

Dr. Gilbert knew the boy had been wearing the chastity device for several years now. It had been an understandable, if somewhat heavy-handed, precaution. As the boy aged and the Brazilian Solution became more and more likely, the concern was that the boy would discover masturbation on his own. While such a discovery was normal and even healthy, the professionals all agreed that the boy would do more harm than good if he began to achieve manual climax while in space. Had he, his body, and more specifically his heart, would begin to acclimate to that lack of gravity as the norm and would render the Brazilian Solution less than effective. This was explained to the boy but a specially built chastity device was installed when he turned ten so as to ensure his compliance. Boys and their toys, as it were. A small dose of dromoxicien before bedtime took care of any nocturnal emissions.

Then the medical tech gently grasped the boys slowly stiffening member and delicately removed the false foreskin that had encased the boy’s coronal head and frenulum for the last several years to ensure that the penis maintained sensitivity while trapped in the device. While the boy had been circumcised at birth, the introduction of the false foreskin had been an idea meant to reactivate the body’s natural sensitivity and, as the material was removed and the boy’s cockhead was released for the first time in a long time, Dr. Gilbert knew the measure had been a good one. The boy, it appeared, became hard almost immediately and stood at a respectable four inches.

The techs all knew their job and the next few minutes saw the boy’s body hair (below his eyebrows, that is) removed by laser, various monitoring patches connected to his skin, and his hands, feet, arms, and legs encased in stiff durable rubber bindings. One tech gave the boy a quick enema, which the boy obviously found uncomfortable, before several large devices were wheeled into place around the youngster. Goggles were placed over the boy’s eyes and a small ball gag was inserted into the boys mouth so as to ensure he didn’t bite his tongue or lips. Lastly, one tech flipped multiple switches on the helmet device before giving the control center the thumbs up.

Computers came online. Lights began to blink. The control center became abuzz with confirmation checks and rechecks. Dr. Gilbert stood in the center, looking down at his operations station and reviewing the various input feeds that were being generated for him. He felt, somewhat, like a conductor about to begin an opus. “Are we ready?” he said calmly and the muted noise of the control room died.

“All stations report normal,” replied Deputy Chief Mitchell from across the room.

“Let’s proceed, then.” The various team members nodded to each other and began to prepare themselves. It was going to be a long day. “Stage One, activate.”

“Stage One activating,” several people echoed. The machines whirled to life within the operation room while the remaining personnel stood ready, prepared to intercede should any medical intervention be necessary. This was, after all, an experimental procedure. Compartments of the machines opened and long snakelike tubes slithered out one by one, mechanical appendages filled with sensors and burgeoning artificial intelligence. The staff in the control center monitored the devices, reading the data and inputing occasional commands. The boy saw none of it, his eyesight completely obscured by the goggles, but visions of erotic scenes began to flash before his eyes and the computer, analyzing his brain patters via the helmet wrapped around his head, began to shift the scenes so as to find the most stimulating available. Moaning and grunting, along with whispered erotic phrases, began to filter through the earbuds to heighten the stimulation.

“Stage Two,” Dr. Gilbert said, “activate.”

“Activating,” replied someone behind him. He watched, then, as two of the mechanical appendages slithered up the boy’s side. Tipped with small suction cups filled with over a dozen rubbery filaments, the questing creepers fastened to the boy’s small pink nipples and the boy’s chest heaved for a split second. “Nipple stimulators secured,” the same voice said a heartbeat later. “Intensity set at .6” Dr. Gilbert nodded. The simulators would go to work on the boy’s now stiff nipples, their filaments stroking and pinching the sensitive nubs in an effort to increase the boy’s arousal and pleasure.

“Effect on the O-Meter?” Dr. Gilbert said, glancing toward the appropriate screen.

“A definite jump. Patient is at 15%, up 7% from before stage two. O-Meter holding steady.” Dr. Gilbert nodded at the console operator in thanks. He knew that the system was constantly scanning the patient’s brain and orgasm would occur if the patient reached 100% on the O-Meter. Anywhere between 98% and 99% would put the boy right at the cusp of orgasm but the solid 100% was necessary to cross the threshold and climax.

“Activate State Three,” Dr. Gilbert said a few moments later.

“Activating.” Two more appendages, this time tipped with soft vibrating heads, approached the boy’s testicles hanging rather loosely in the boy’s hairless sack and settled right up next to each nut. Their light buzzing agains his unsuspecting scrotum caused the boy to immediately react, his body quivering in it’s confinement.

“O-Meter reads 21%. 26% 32% Leveling off.”

“What’s their intensity set at?” Deputy Chief Mitchell said before Dr. Gilbert could ask.

“It’s at .8 sir” the team member responded.

“That’s fine,” said Dr. Gilbert to the room. “The testes and nipples were only the opening act. We all knew that. Drop the intensity of the testicular stimulator down to .5 and lets see if that has any effect. We are shooting for under 30% people.”

The adjustments were made and, a few moments later, the O-Meter read 29.6%. Sighs of satisfaction filled the room.

“Ok Stage Four. Activate.” Dr. Gilbert knew this part would be tricky but extensive testing had yielded positive results. As he watched, another appendage slid gracefully out of one of the compartments. Unlike the previous appendages, which were clearly metallic, this appendage was a fleshy color and gleamed with slick lubricant. It’s flared mushroom head, bulbous and vibrating angrily, slid between the boy’s outstretched legs and into the crevasse formed by his parted bottom. Several screens came to life and Dr. Gilbert watched in fascination as the close-up of the patient’s anus, a twitching virginal ring of flesh, was subsumed by the vibrating head of the new appendage. Then the soft tip buzzed eagerly against the exposed opening and the video feed picked up the frantic moans of surprise from the young patient as he shifted around uselessly, trying, Dr. Gilbert assumed, to avoid the unusual and disconcerting feelings.

It didn’t help. Slowly, the flesh began to part as the appendage’s tip released more and more lubricant and pressed onward, the mushroom shaped head forcing it’s way past the resisting ring before a loud “plop” filled the room and the patient squealed. Inch after inch slithered into the patient, then, and Dr. Gilbert watched as the patient shivered, shook, and spasmed. “O-Meter?” he asked.

“Approaching 63% sir,” responded a tech.

“Keep an eye on it,” Dr. Gilbert responded, “and let me know if it goes past 65%”

“Too late,” the same tech responded. “67%. 69%. 73%.” Frantic tapping filled the room as various instruments were checked and re-adjusted.

“Stop anal stimulation. Reduce vibration from .6 to .4, no, .3” Dr. Gilbert bit his lip. “Reduce teste stimulation to .3 and nipple stimulation to .4.” There were affirmative responses.

“O-meter dropping,” responded another tech. Seconds passed. “It’s down to 54%.”

Dr. Gilbert began to pace. “Ok, we are going to hold off on Stage Five. What is the status of the anal stimulation?”

“Five inches inside. .3 vibration. No movement.”

“Lets stay at five inches. Keep the vibration at .3 and make sure that the tip stays away from the patient’s prostate. Begin thrusting.” Looking through the glass, Dr. Gilbert could see the patient’s body sweating copiously and beginning to spasm slightly as the appendage started sliding in and out of the relaxing anal ring, the five inches buried deep before the appendage almost exited the patient entirely. Then it slid home, all five inches disappearing inside the quivering flesh.

“O-meter rising, Doctor. Looks like it is leveling off at… 64%” There were several sighs of relief.

“Activate Stage Five, then, and make sure the vibrations are at .4.”

“Activating.” The last appendage slithered out of a compartment, it’s tip hollow and filled with two separate internal massage rings. Once the appendage engulfed the patient’s penis, the first ring, Dr. Gilbert knew, would slide up and down the shaft while vibrating slowly. The second ring, by contrast, would focus almost exclusively on the coronal head of the patient’s penis and would vibrate at a much higher speed. The contrast between the two, from all reports, was quite dramatic and stimulating.

“Mmmhhhh!!!!!” cried the patient as the appendage swallowed his taut four inches, the rings immediately going to work.

“O-Meter at 71%. 82%. 91% 94% 95% Leveling off.”

“Ok people. Watch and observe. We need five minutes at 95% before we begin to creep upwards.” The room filled with nods. Everyone knew what was expected.

The minutes passed agonizingly slow for Dr. Gilbert but he persevered, watching intently as the various instruments documented the patient’s condition. Heart rate. Blood pressure. Pleasure levels. At two minutes forty seven seconds, the patient’s O-Meter began to creep up and Dr. Gilbert ordered all the intensity setting dropped by .1 which appeared to be the right call. The patient again leveled off at 96.1%.

When five minutes had passed, Dr. Gilbert tapped his screen and nodded. “Ok, we all know what is next. We need to get the O-Meter as close to 100% without actually hitting it. Ideally, we need to be between 98.7% and 99.4% so as to be able to make adjustments on the fly. Is everyone ready?”

“Yes sir!” the crowd answered.

“Nipples and testicles, up .1”

“Up .1, aye”

Seconds passed.

“Up another .1.”

“Aye.”

“Anal, add a sixth inch.”

“Adding sixth inch, sir.”

“Increase anal intensity by .2”

“Sir, O-Meter is creeping up. 96.5%. 96.9%”

Dr. Gilbert nodded. “Up penile intensity by .2 and give me an immediate status. Drop it if the spike is too much.”

“O-Meter up to 97.4% 97.9% 98.3% Stable!”

The crowd cheered and Dr. Gilbert took a deep breath. “Can we push it up just slightly? Increase penile and anal intensity by .1 each.” The crowd became immediately quiet as the adjustments were made.

“98.7.% 98.9% We are leveling off at 99.1%” Again, cheers filled the room.

Outside it, the patient was trashing around, orgasm tantalizingly close, Dr. Gilbert knew, but just out of reach. Sweat poured of the youngster, his body glistening as his muscles shuddered in subcutaneous tremors of frustration and delight. A continuous stream of moans and groans filled the operation room but none paid any mind. They had reached the sweet spot and the crowd of technicians and program specialists were eager to see if their good luck would hold. They all knew that this heightened state was working wonders on the patient’s heart, strengthening the organ with every passing minute.

“Alright! We are in the zone! All stations report ready!” Dr. Gilbert stood, looking around anxiously.

“Nipples ready.”

Testicles ready.”

“Anus ready.”

“Penis ready.”

“Watch for any fluctuations. If there is a spike, drop the intensity. We want to keep the patient right here for at least and hour. Preferably two. You all know what you have to do. Let’s not lose this.” Dr. Gilbert paced around the room, then, speaking quietly to each tech and encouraging them to do their duty and to be extra vigilant.

Over the course of the next two hours, the patient was kept between 98.4% and 99.7% on the O-Meter. Twice, his pleasure readings spiked and only the quick reflexes of the staff in diminishing the intensity was able to hold of the patient’s impending climax. The patient, meanwhile, was a gibbering mess whose body was kept at a constant state of almost-orgasm. Dr. Gilbert, mindful of his responsibilities, left the confines of the control center ninety-minutes in to personally check on the patient. 

He observed the nipples, pink and hard and heaving under the ministrations of the suction cups attached to them.

He observed the scrotum, smooth and soft but vibrating in time with the two egg-live vibrators tucked firmly against it and humming in the cool sterile environment.

He observed the pink anus twitching around the six inch appendage as it slid in and out at a constant rate of speed and he knew that the large vibrating head of that appendage was continuously pressing back against the patient’s tight hole every time the appendage slid almost all the way out.

He observed the hairless four inches throbbing as the two visible rings vibrated and stroked the quivering shaft and slick wet cockhead.

He observed the images flashing across the boy’s VR goggles, noting with casual interest that the scene was one of a young man in his twenties eagerly fucking a hot young twink with his long hard cock. The patient, apparently, responded most eagerly to erotic gay twink videos and the computer, having made that determination by scanning the patient’s brain functions, was now feeding the patient a steady stream of those hot sex scenes.

Just past the two hour mark, Dr. Gilbert found himself smiling eagerly. The Brazilian Solution, it seemed, was working just as, if not better than, he had hoped. Glancing out the window at the weakly thrashing body, Dr. Gilbert determined it was time for the final push. 

“Ok, everyone. Great job! I think that the reports being generated today are going to be very positive and I have no doubt that we are now one step closer to allowing the patient to live normally here on Earth. It’s time to activate Stage Six.”

“Stage Six, activating,” replied various individuals. As screens were tapped, the intensity of each appendage was reduced all the way down to .1 and the anal appendage slowed to a complete stop. Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. Dr. Gilbert watched as the O-Meter dropped, slowly at first but more rapidly as the minutes flew by. 95% 89% 77% 54% 33% 11%.

“Patient hovering around 9%, sir.”

“That expected,” Dr. Gilbert said. “The patient’s body is so flushed with arousal, noting is going to bring it down to a complete 0%. Lets give the patient a respite, shall we?”

Five minutes passed as the techs finished up their notes and began to pack up their personal things. The day, everyone knew, had been a resounding success. Extraneous monitors were turned off and many of the various instruments were reset into standby mode. Several people, those with nothing left to do, shook Dr. Gilbert’s hand and left the room.

“Alright. I guess we can activate Stage Seven. Make the kid cum.”

The intensity settings were suddenly thrust from .1 to 1.0, the max setting available, and the machines responded to the sudden commands by whirling to life. The nipple stimulators engaged, the boy’s softening tits becoming rock hard once again as they were grasped, twisted, and turned. The vibrators next to the boy’s balls hummed like yellow-jackets as they pressed into his scrotum, pushing eagerly against his sensitive testes. Eight inches of hard fleshy material suddenly began to pound into the boy, the vibrating mushroom head jackhammering the boy’s unsuspecting and previously unmolested prostate. The twin rings that had previously been slowly masturbating the lad hummed loudly and began to frisk his boyhood vigorously, becoming a blur of motion.

The kid screamed into his gag, overwhelmed by the onslaught.

“22% 56% 76% 92% 100%” Dr. Gilbert called out loudly as he watched the boy through the window spasm uncontrollably, two, then five, then ten shots of immature boy spunk erupting from his immature tool only to get sucked into the appendage’s waiting tanks.

Three Months Later:

“So the project was a success and the boy’s last treatment was today, right? He can be released to his parents tomorrow morning?” the Director asked, leveling her icy gaze at Dr. Gilbert who stood motionless across from her desk.

“Yes Director. The patient spent about two and a half hours each day being tended to by the machines, giving his body, through repeated sexual stimulation, the ability to adapt to our environment. All testing seems to indicate that the heart issue is now resolved. The boy is, for all intents and purposes, fully prepared for life here on Earth.”

“And the last two weeks?”

Dr. Gilbert swallowed. “The last two weeks, Director?”

She smiled thinly at him and touched a key pad on her desk. The large computer screen behind her loaded up a video recording. Dr. Gilbert knew where this was going. He shifted nervously.

The frozen video showed a boy’s bedroom. It was the patient’s quarters, to be exact, where the boy had lived since landing on earth. The digital timestamp read 1:27am. Seven large naked college-aged young men had surrounded the free-standing bed, with the patient, also naked, laying spread eagle upon it. One of the men had his cock lodged deep inside the boy’s asshole. Another had his cock balls-deep down the youngster’s throat. A third appeared to be eagerly sucking the boy’s boner while still others were twisting and pinching the kid’s taut nipples. Dr. Gilbert hoped that the Director would not press play because he knew that the video would show almost two hours of non-stop sex between the kid and the studs. Each night. For the past two weeks.

“I can explain,” he said, weakly.

“Let me guess. The Brazilian Solution worked pretty well but, towards the end of the three months, began to lose effectiveness. You decided to bring in a bunch of boylovers for the last two weeks of the treatment to have their way with the kid at night. You figured that the boy, eager for hot gay sex, would then respond more positively to the daytime treatment if that had occurred. And he did. The numbers improved. Those young men,” she nodded to the video, “saved the program and ensured the kid a speedy recovery.”

Dr. Gilbert nodded, dumbstruck.

“You were right. Now don’t ever do something so stupid again without running it by me first. Get out of my office, Doctor. You have an award ceremony to attend to tonight in honor of your contribution to medical science. Congratulations, by the way. Your work saved the space program. I’ll see you Monday. We need to start discussing a visit to Neptune.”


End file.
